


Insults

by Spera_via



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Humor, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 02:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11174805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spera_via/pseuds/Spera_via
Summary: Just a friendly conversation among friends, just being friends.





	Insults

Folly, uncharacteristically pensive, strode into the fortress on Yavin 4. Without really paying attention to where he was going, he entered the large meeting room. Three thrones sat before rows and rows of chairs, filed in such a way that a long aisle sat down the middle. He got halfway down said aisle before slowing to a stop and frowning at the thrones before him. 

What was he doing here?

There was nothing in the reliquary for him to study. No place to practice saber skills, really. Well, the arena… but that was the first place people usually checked. He wanted to go over his drills in private. 

Folly clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides, lips pursed as he stared unseeingly ahead, thoughts racing through his mind.

Laughter echoed around him. A familiar voice. Folly closed his eyes and sighed in irritation. Gathering his thoughts, he looked around, trying to spot Nekor. When the other apprentice didn’t appear, Folly decided that leaving was probably his best choice and turned on his heel to go.

Just before he could hit the stairs, Nekor came jogging up to him and stopped, oddly enough, nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Folly Var.” The Miralukan stated simply. Folly looked at him flatly. 

“What do you want?”

“I just got back from a mission where I slayed an ancient beast on Tatooine! I was able to salvage some of its fangs. Venomous you know. Do you want one? So you can remember my awesome power?”

“Can I stab you with it?”

Nekor’s cheerful demeanor vanished almost instantly.

“You could try, though I would kill you before you’d touch me.”

Folly sighed and closed his eyes before reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Nekor, now clued into his antagonist’s change of attitude, crossed his arms.

“What’s wrong Chiss? Don’t like me anymore?” 

Grinyon, unbeknownst to, at least Folly, made his way silently down the aisle of chairs, drawn to the area by the talking.

Folly opened his eyes and studied the other man, lips pursed as if to stop the many answers that wanted to break free. Instead, he settled on: “What do you want Nekor?” 

“I suppose I just wanted to gloat: I’m being appointed /Lord/ at the ball.” 

That news was surprising. Folly blinked, stunned into silence.

“What? No mocking comments? Guess you’ll make a good Sith after al-” 

He was cut off as Folly recovered, bringing his hands up and together to clap in a slow and dramatic way. The hollow sound echoed around them. 

“There isn’t enough glitter in the world to celebrate such a momentous occasion.” He drawled slowly, opening his hands as if he were about to present Nekor with a gift, or a fact. 

Nekor would roll his eyes, if he had them. “There it is.”

Folly, on a roll now, talked over him.

“Have you called the Emperor yet? Is Revan himself going to rise up out of the ground and crown you himself? What about Tulak Hord since you’ve studied him so much? Perhaps they’ll make you a fancy cape out of the skin of that /Ancient Beast/ you’ve slaughtered! And tie it around your neck with a neat little bow. And write your name on it with a glitter pen so it dazzles the world as you pass by. And everyone can make you cards- hand write them out to you.”

Nekor leaned back on his foot, saying nothing, expression going blank. Folly, still on his roll barreled on.

“Perhaps there’ll be a scribe to document the momentous occasion. Perhaps the entire Jedi council, upon hearing the news, will surrender on the spot just know that Nekor the /Awesome/” Here, he waved his hands to emphasize the word, “has become a Lord.” 

Folly, finally having run out of verbal abuse, scoffed before grumbling himself into silence. Nekor waited for him to quiet before speaking. 

“I was thinking more along the lines of Nekor the Vicious.” He commented humorously. Folly stiffened and glared at the man as he continued. “But I suppose that works.”

“Oh, you’ve learned another word,” The Chiss spat acidly. “Congratulations. Perhaps you can be more creative with your insults now.”

“I have no need for insults now. I need only my blade.” 

Folly sighed, fighting and failing to stop himself from rolling his eyes. 

“So, every time you hear something you can’t properly handle, you’ll just attack someone? That’s stupid.”

“That’s a ridiculous assumption.” Nekor snapped back, crossing his arms.

“That’s just what you’ve implied! Said even!”

Nekor shook his head. “You’re… no. You’re wrong.” Folly shook his head back, mirroring Nekor’s body language. 

“Sure. I’ll add that to my list of characteristics.” He gestures, suddenly, arms out before him, fingers splayed as if framing a large picture. “Folly Var: Wrong. Fool. Worm. Insufferable. Insolent.” He bows sarcastically before Nekor. “And that is the extent of your vocabulary.”

Grinyon, watching the bickering, edged closer. Nekor watched the display, teeth clenched together. Fighting his temper, he stared angrily at the man before him before responding. 

“I think you’ve missed some.” Looking for a distraction from his anger, he nodded to Grinyon as Folly righted himself, adding to the list he quoted above.

“Chiss.” He stated. Nekor turned back to him, temper rising again.

“Maggot.”

“Carrion.” Folly added, attempting to lengthen his own list of insults. Nekor, instead of smirking back, scowled. Folly, knowing his antics were angering the man before him, scowled back. 

Folly was right. He watched in satisfaction as Nekor took a few deep breaths before speaking again.

“Folly. What has gotten into you?” He demanded. Folly pursed his lips again to hide his unease. Nekor never, EVER, called him by his name. At least not seriously. And Folly wasn’t used to being caught off-guard (let alone twice in a conversation). To buy time, he brushed his palms together in a nonchalant way, rolling his eyes as he did so.

“See you around Almost-Lord Nekor. Grinyon.” Having said his farewell, he turned on his heel and strode to the exit, using the Force to propel him forward the moment his feet touched the stairs. He ignored Nekor’s glare as it followed him away.


End file.
